


Life of The After Party

by A_Ghost_Called_Boo



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25934131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Ghost_Called_Boo/pseuds/A_Ghost_Called_Boo
Summary: Two fabulous killjoys go out to save their leader from being passed out in some dingy zone bar- also known as another saturday morning
Relationships: Fun Ghoul & Jet Star (Danger Days), Fun Ghoul & Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Fun Ghoul & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	Life of The After Party

**Author's Note:**

> Whoop whoop, Maxx back at it with the angst. Literally no one is surprised

The last thing Ghoul expected was an incoming transmission from a bar in Five about a certain red-haired leader being half-dead, quite literally drunk under the tables. Originally, he’d turned on the old radio sitting atop the shelf above his desk in the workshop with the intention of having the radio static drown out the deafening silence of the diner while he worked on his latest project- a prototype for remote-activated low detonation magnetic bombs. He was starting to regret that decision, though, as he willed himself to abandon his work and return into the diner’s old kitchen.

Jet and Kobra were sleeping in the corner, sprawled in a rat’s nest of blanket, bed sheets, pillows and whatever else ended up in there, with Jet stacked on top of Kobra who was clutching tightly a pillow to his chest. Ghoul tried to wake Jet up as gently as possible, but Kobra was always a light sleeper, so he ended up waking them both up- then again, maybe it was for the better. Destroya knows, he didin’t want the younger to wake up from one of his nightmares and find himself all alone.

After briefing them on what he’s been told about the situation, the other two killjoys share a look before Kobra materialises a set of keys from under the blankets and throws them at Jet who barely catches them before they hit him in the face. Ghoul gives the younger a questioning look, but he only grumbles something about not feeling like dealing with his sibling’s bullshit tonight as he rubs his eyes tiredly. No one mentions how this was the first time he’s called Poison his sibling or questions what Ghoul was doing still up to catch the transmission in the first place.

Naturally, Poison took the Trans Am when they left- why wouldn’t they have, they love that thing more than their own brother, Ghoul swears- but that doesn’t stop Jet from frowning as he looks at the empty space where the car was once parked.

“I swear, if they broke the Am again i’m not fixing it.” Jet grumbles to himself, as he mounts Kobra’s bike and puts on his helmet, keys having somehow found their way in the contact somewhere along the way.

Ghoul is following close behind, jumping in the back as he takes out a bandana and a pair of shades to serve in lieu of an actual helmet, “Oh Destroya, please no. I don’t want to have to walk everywhere.” he sighs, finicking with tying the bandana over his mouth and nose, “You could probably get away with murdering them, though.” the younger ‘joy jokes as he puts on the glasses and grips onto the former’s jacket.

“Knowing them, they’d like that.“ Jet laughs bitterly as he kicks the jack and turns on the engine, setting them off on a mission to rescue their reckless crewmate.

Ghoul doesn’t try to start conversation along the way, part because whatever topic he tried to bring up would’ve been drowned by the noise of the engine and part because his brain got hung up on Jet’s words from earlier. The Four have been living together for about a month now, which means Ghoul hasn’t known Poison for more than maybe a couple weeks beyond that, but they’ve never struck him as that type of person. If anything, he always expected himself to be the first one to go- still does, to be fair- but never Poison.

Sure, they’re a little reckless and hot-headed, which gets them in all sorts of situations, but they’re just too... _Poison_ to lay down and die. That sounds about as believable as an exterminator shooting the Director- it just doesn’t make sense!

Soon enough, the bar comes in view in all its run-down hazy neon glory and Jet pulls up next to the Trans Am which has been all if not discarded near the entrance where some stray crash queens talked to each other over the muffled sound of rock’n’roll booming from inside. Ghoul gets off and before he even asks Jet how they’re supposed to get into the Trans Am without the keys, Jet slams a fist on top of the car’s roof, causing the driver’s side door open with a pop.

“What?“ the older asks amused with a raised brow, while the other struggles to pick up his jaw of the floor and kick his brain back into gear.

“How’d you do that??” Ghoul says in awe, as Jet parks himself in the driver’s seat and shrugs.

“I fixed this thing. I basically know everything inside out.“ he makes a flippant gesture with his hand as if he’s not being a total humblebrag, “Oh, by the way, you’re the one who has to get Poison out.“ he adds matter-of-factly, making the other recoil towards the bike.

“Jet, i’m going to _die_ if i go in there.” the younger killjoy shoots back, looking hurt that his friend would even suggest this.

“You’re not going to die.” Jet sighs, talking to him as if he was a small child, insisting for the nth time that there’s a monster under their bed. Only difference was that Ghoul wasn’t a small child and crowds were very much _real_ , just like the meltdowns they caused him.

“Yes, i _will_.” Ghoul argues back, shooting the other a sharp glare, “I can’t handle crowds, Jet! I freak out, okay? What’s the point in me going in there if you have to come anyway to save both me _and_ Poison?”

The older boy looks guilty as he fidgets with something around his wrist and Ghoul feels guilty too for causing a scene, in spite of the tiny voice in the back of his head that is almost _happy_ he made Jet feel bad for trying to send him into the mouth of the beast. The silence between the two is too loud, and it has nothing to do with the music escaping into the cold night air from the club. Ghoul opens his mouth to speak, when Jet cuts him off.

“Look,” he begins, running a hand down his face with a tired sigh, “I need you to go get Poison because someone’s got to stay at the Am in case we need to make a quick getaway and no offence, but you’re a better fighter than driver.”

And Ghoul knows he’s right, he does, it’s just- “I’m going to freak out, Jet.” he repeats quietly, some of the chill outside seeping through his jacket and nestling into his bones.

“Here.“ the other killjoy holds out a fairly long strand of beads to Ghoul, “Ummm...i’m going to need those back since they are my bad luck beads, but i thought since running my fingers over them usually helps me calm down, maybe they’ll work for you too?” he explains nervously and the younger gingerly accepts the beads, looping them aroung his wrist twice.

The second loop is longer than the first, reaching down to his palm, but the weight of it all is welcome as he runs his fingers over the smooth beads, mentally preparing himself to go into the bar. Jet needs him and, to a degree, Kobra and Poison do too- he can’t let them down because of something as petty as fear. Taking a deep breath, he turns around to face Jet and gives him a solemn nod, before quickly taking off towards the bar in hopes that if he’s quick enough his anxious thoughts won’t be able to catch up with him.

The air inside is hot, a stark contrast against the cold outside, and people are standing packed together talking and laughing with cups and unlabeled bottles in their hands under the red tint of the low lights scattered on the celing, making the faces smudge together in a blur of masks, lipstick, glitter and skin. It feels like Ghoul just ran into a brick wall as he steps through the door, but he still elbows his way through the crowd, clutching Jet’s bad luck beads tightly as he frantically scans around for a particular red haired asshole.

Luck seems to be in his favour for once, as after looking for Poison at the bar with no results, he briefly catches a glimpse of them sitting in a booth across the dancefloor. Impulsively, he starts threading through the crowd of bodies standing between the two of them, when the song changes and a wave of people floods around him. His breath catches in the back of his throat and the floor suddenly feels like it’s sending a million little electric shocks throughout his body as poeple push him around and everything blends together in a mixture of too much, too loud and too _everything_ everywhere.

Ghoul gets ping-ponged around until he trips over his own feet, falling on something- or rather _someone_ \- getting the wind knocked out of him for the second time thath night, only this time it feels more like drowning than anything. When opens his eyes again, he’s met with Poison looking down at him with a worried and mildly confused expression which startles him so badly he falls off their lap where he has landed and onto the floor.

“Are you alright, Ghoulie?“ they squint at him and Ghoul has to have a double-take at the nickname before jumping back on his feet. If he had any doubts if Poison was really drunk, they had all disappeared- sober Poison wouldn’t have been caught dead calling him anything but his name.

“It’s time to go home.“ Ghoul says, ignoring their question because no, he wasn’t alright, but them knowing that wouldn’t help in this situation, so he’ll just have to suck it up.

The red haired killjoy pouts and crosses their arms over their chest, “No. I don’t want to leave my friends- i’m having fun!”

Poison’s “friends” are two android girls and a crash queen who’s hanging off of Poison’s shoulders like they are the only thing holding them up anymore, the three of them seeming about as interested in Ghoul as he was interested in them- which is not at all.

“Poison, you’re drunk.“ the younger deadpans, but that turns out to be the wrong thing to do.

“That’s the fucking point!“ Poison snaps, making Ghoul instinctively jump a step back, “I’m actually having fun for once and i’m not fucking letting you take that away from me.” they snarl.

“Fine!“ he shouts back, though his voice cracks, “Keep your fucking fun then! I’m going back to the Diner.“

Poison frowns and opens their mouth to say something- or more likely yell at Ghoul some more because why wouldn’t they, he’d talked back- when Ghoul turns around and bolts for the exit. They ignore Poison calling after him and the way his stomach is tying itself in knots and that people are giving him weird looks and he _most definitely_ ignores the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

The air outside is so cold, it makes him trip over and fall on his knees, scraping his palms, but he doesn’t care- he doesn’t even want to get up as tears roll down his face and onto the sand below. Out of nowhere, two hands grab him by the arms and pull him back up, and Ghoul doesn’t try to stop them or get away until he turns around to see who’s behind him.

“Don’t hurt me.“ he squeaks and Poison freezes, an oportunity he takes to break away from their grasp and put five steps between them. 

No one seems to breath and the red haired killjoy looks shocked. What little red light escapes the club, paints the pain on their face in a soft glow as dark shadows make them look as tired as Ghoul feels and in that moment it’s like the whole world has crashed on its head. There they are, standing outside a bar in Zone Five at asscrack in the morning with a drunk Poison and crying Ghoul, Jet no doubt witnessing the commotion concerned from back at the Am- they’re a mess.

“I- I wouldn’t-“ the older stutters, taking a few steps back themself before falling down, “Ghoul, i’d never- i won’t-“

He doesn’t meet their eye, instead looking at his shoes as he nudges small piles of dirt to the side, almost wondering how long it’s take him to dig himself into a hole at that pace. Turns out he won’t find it out today, the sound of footsteps coming towards the two in a sprint, making Ghoul quickly wipe away his tears and pretend like he’s never even cried in the first place- something he was probably too experienced in. Jet stops behind Ghoul, placing a hand on his shoulder and the smaller killjoy can’t help, but go stiff despite knowing he has good intentions.

“Is everything alright?” Jet asks carefully in a steady voice, eyeing the two other killjoys. Ghoul didn’t quite understand why he asked- he’d clearly seen the whole thing unfold- everything was, quite clearly, not alright.

“Yeah.“ the black haired killjoy lies more out of reflex than anything, “Let’s just go home.“

Jet nods and that’s all the confirmation Ghoul needs before heading to the Trans Am without as much as being concerned whether or not Poison or even Jet are following. The door of the car opens with a tired groan and he climbs in the backseat, slamming the door shut harder than intended which makes him jump. Shortly after, another door gets opened and something falls onto Ghouls lap. He looks down puzzled and sees Poison’s face, their eyes are puffy and red and even in the moon’s pale glow, Ghoul can tell their face is wet from crying. He looks away.

There is a final door slam and the engines comes to life with a roar, setting them off on their drive back to the Diner. The silence hangs heavy above the head of the three killjoys inside the car, Ghoul pretending it doesn’t bother him even though watching the desert whirr by makes him feel like pulling his hair out from boredom.

“You hate me.“ Poison breaks the silence and it startles Ghoul so badly he nearly drops his head from where it is propped on his fist.

“I don’t hate you.“ the younger sighs, sparing a glance at the other. Their eyes are glossed over, like they aren’t entirely there, and their mouth is set in a frown.

“Then why-“ they begin and he knows exactly where they’re going with that question.

“It’s none of your buisness.” Ghoul snaps, a little harsher than intended, and he can feel Poison startle at his tone, “I don’t hate you.“ he repeats, softly, “I’m- i just don’t like people yelling. At me...“ even saying it out loud feels childish.

“Oh.“ the red haired killjoy says and the other can almost hear the cogs turning in their brain, “I do a lot of yelling...“

“Yeah.“ the former agrees quietly, “But mostly it’s not directed only at me, so it’s fine.“

There’s a beat and Ghoul almost thinks that Poison might’ve fallen asleep.

“Y’know, i’m jelous of you.” they begin and Ghoul can’t help but raise an eyebrow, “It’s true! You and Kobra are so close, but he won’t even talk to me unless he really _has_ to. I think he might hate me too.“

“Kobra doesn’t hate you, Poison.“ Ghoul sighs, threading the fine line between the truth and a lie without even realising it.

“But he doesn’t talk to me!“ Poison protests, making the other roll his eyes.

“Neither do you talk to me when you’re sober.“ he points out, but he soon regrets his words as he realises how bad that sounded.

“I’m sorry.” the older apologises before Ghoul can, and neither say anything after that.

*

By the time they arrive back at the Diner, the sun is peaking from over the horizon, while Ghoul and Poison are asleep in the back of the Trans Am. Jet’s pretty sure he’ll be sleeping into the next week with how tired he feels, but he’s at least happy to know that as long as those two are asleep, he’ll manage to get about three hours of sleep of that before the regular commotion of the Diner resumes.

As Jet turns the engine off, he sees a rather pissed off Kobra stomping his way out of the old building and all of his hopes of getting any sleep evaporate into thin air.

“Jet Star, motherfucker, what the fuck did you do to my baby??“ Kobra asks, motioning to the motorcycle strapped to the car’s trunk with a bunch of rope.

“Good morning to you too, Kobra“


End file.
